


Behind Closed Doors and Under Stars

by kathalcyon, shihadchick



Category: Hey Monday
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathalcyon/pseuds/kathalcyon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't really been expecting Jersey to run out and tell the entire tour, because Jersey is actually one of the nicest guys Alex has ever known. But he also hadn't expected Jersey to act like this was somehow <i>their</i> secret, like he's in on it. There have been a lot of sidelong glances, and subtle eyebrow raises, and Jersey keeps invading his space when they're playing. It's baffling, and Alex secretly thinks it's kind of awesome too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors and Under Stars

**Author's Note:**

> So the Mondays are all fricking adorable and we think there needs to be more fic about them. We took the leap. :) Title from Garbage's Androgyny. Also, seriously. Things that we will just take as a dare if you twitter about them: [THIS](http://www.flickr.com/photos/78257492@N00/3872979843/sizes/o/).

* * *  
The thing was, the thing was Alex had really, genuinely, honestly thought that door _locked_. But it turns out he's dead wrong about that, because instead of hiding out in the bathroom and destressing -- he wasn't actually going to jerk off or anything, he doesn't need that, he just wanted to. You know. Sit on the edge of the hotel tub wearing a cheap corset and breathe for a while.

Except destressing is kind of the exact opposite of what he's actually doing right now, which is a lot more like panicking.

Jersey just stares, caught in the doorway, still mid-step with one foot hovering above the tiles as his eyes dart from Alex's face, down to his torso, guiltily back to his face again.

"I-" he starts, but he has no fucking idea what to say, this wasn't supposed to happen, and he doesn't even have the first idea of how to explain this to, well, to anyone, especially to anyone in his band, who he sees, like, every day. He knows he's blushing, and he's pretty afraid that if he tries to keep talking he's going to wind up stammering to boot.

Jersey stares for just a second longer, and right at the point where Alex is going to have to say something to break the increasingly awkward silence, no matter how stupid it sounds, Jersey manages to get out a "sorry, sorry, you- sorry," and Alex thinks that he maybe breaks the sound barrier making his escape, because he's gone in a flash of skinny jeans and shiny sneakers, the room door closing loudly behind him.

Alex slumps back onto the toilet seat and lets his head fall into his hands. On the one hand, thank fuck he doesn't have to actually talk about this. On the other, he has a feeling that sitting in the back of the van tomorrow is going to be hella awkward. Fuck his life. Just... fuck.

* * *

It's not actually as bad as he's expecting.

They don't talk about it and don't talk about it, and Jersey barely looks at him now, and Alex knows he should be relieved, but he can't help himself one day, touches Jersey's arm lightly to get his attention and draws him over to a quiet corner of the room. He has to steel himself to start talking, but it's not like they don't both know what this is going to be about.

"Look, it's not all the time- it's not like I _need_ to or anything, it's just that sometimes-" and then he cuts himself off, because that was sure going nowhere good.

Jersey replies before he can quite marshal his resources to try again (and shit, really, he should've thought this through a lot better, who starts a conversation like this without knowing what he wants to say, god). His voice is low and his gaze keeps darting around, checking that no one else is paying them too close attention.

"No, yeah, it's not like," he starts, and then, like it makes sense, "you know I think you should do whatever you want. I'm just, like, sorry I intruded or whatever, dude," and he squeezes a fast hug around Alex's shoulders, before bouncing off to talk to Cassadee.

It's only really then that Alex realizes he hadn't exactly felt intruded upon.

* * *

It should be a lot weirder, really, because they're around each other basically all the time. They can't get away from each other. The van is big as vans go, but still not even a bus (Alex has high, possibly unrealistic hopes for their next headlining tour), and they share the same part of the stage every night, and it would be a thing if they tried to change the tried-and-true rooming situation now. The last thing Alex wants to do is cause drama. Jersey knows this huge, fucking _weird_ thing about him now, and Alex honestly can't think of a way to explain it away. It was one thing when he and Mike had dressed up in corsets and gotten a little fucked up on vodka and shouted things at a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's really really quite another to be wearing a corset in the (nonexistent, obviously) privacy of his hotel room.

The thing is, Alex knows if this gets out at all, he's the only one who will look bad. Everyone will look at him and _know_, and Jersey will just be the poor guy who walked into his hotel room. This isn't mutually assured destruction, this is a nuke held over his head, or something.

He hadn't really been expecting Jersey to run out and tell the entire tour, because Jersey is actually one of the nicest guys Alex has ever known. But he also hadn't expected Jersey to act like this was somehow _their_ secret, like he's in on it. There have been a lot of sidelong glances, and subtle eyebrow raises, and Jersey keeps invading his space when they're playing. It's baffling, and Alex secretly thinks it's kind of awesome too.

Jersey's keeping Alex company while he's driving one morning, early enough that everyone else is basically passed out in the back. Jersey, conveniently, doesn't sleep pretty much ever. "So is it, like, a sex thing?" he asks awkwardly over Lady GaGa on the radio.

"Um," Alex says. He glances really quickly over at Jersey, who's looking intently out the window, pretty deliberately not at Alex. Alex turns back to the road and pays a lot of attention to the blue hatchback in front of them. "Not, like," he starts. Normally he doesn't have any problem talking about this sort of shit, bravado carrying him through conversations about things like the benefits of tongue studs, and one bizarrely heated argument with Elliot about whether it's better to go down on a girl or a guy. But this isn't the kind of thing that everyone's into, this is just him being abnormal and fucked-up, and he doesn't know which is weirder, that he _likes_ it, or that he just kind of... likes it. "Not just, I guess," he says. The blue hatchback speeds up a little bit.

"Okay," Jersey says, and goes back to counting fenceposts, or whatever it is that he does.

* * *

They're partying one night, the whole tour being loud and obnoxious in a hotel bar that is miraculously not carding them (Duncan probably sold his soul to make that happen, but Alex isn't saying no to a Bud Light or several).

He starts when he feels an arm drape over his shoulders, relaxes a little when he sees it's Jersey. "Hey," he says, right against Alex's ear, his breath hot. "Hey, how did you figure out..." he trails off, but it's not like it's not obvious. They both know exactly what he means, exactly why he isn't saying anything less vague.

Alex tries to look like he's still paying attention to where a couple of the This Prov dudes are arguing about Halo. "Old girlfriend though it would be funny," he says, trying to sound offhanded, trying to keep his voice low enough that no one else will hear and _ask_. They'd been about the same size, and she'd been exactly the kind of scene kid who would have a corset, and want to take pictures of her boyfriend in one. Alex had laughed too, and posed, and thought about it a _lot_, even after they'd broken up, even after he and Mike had bought shitty Hot Topic ones for a joke.

Jersey nods, turns his attention to Dan and Andy, and keeps his arm casually around Alex.

* * *

There's an Applebee's just round the corner from the hotel, and Alex jokes around with the Stereo Skyline guys just long enough to drink a Pepsi before saying "Okay, dudes, I'm peacing out." They catcall and Rob shakes his head, says "pussy" not very under his breath, but Alex just flips them off.

"Where are you going?" Cassadee asks loudly from the other end of the table. "Don't ditch out, asshole."

"Back to the hotel. See if I can get some sleep," Alex says. Cass shakes her head at him. They're all always tired at this point in the tour, but it's bad form to admit it. Alex knows he opens himself to whatever mockery people care to dish out every time he doesn't party exactly as much as everyone else is partying, but the teasing is better than the itch under his skin. He puts it off, every time, but eventually the payoff seems more important than the risk. He knows how to pick his moments.

He glances over to where Jersey is laughing at something Duncan has said, and they make about half a second of eye contact. Alex has to break it before he shivers, before there's a tell. He's pretty sure Jersey knows exactly what he's going to do. Now that Jersey knows, he feels like everyone should know, like "freak" is Sharpied across his face, but no one else spares him any attention. He can just walk to the door, walk to the hotel, and no one he passes will give him a second look. Alex makes himself turn, because now he's lingered a moment too long and pretty quickly someone will ask what he's waiting for. He's not waiting for anything.

* * *

Alex doesn't want to admit it even to himself but he's been hoping this would go differently. But he's been sitting alone for what feels like forever, and the anticipation had felt scary and amazing at first, but now he just feels let down, no trace left of the thrill he used to get from just sitting around, dressed up by himself.

He knows he should just change back into a t-shirt and go hang with everyone else, pretend nothing is weird, and he's just making himself decide to do that rather than strip down and sulkily go to bed when he hears the click of the door.

He tries to take a deep breath - thinks belatedly 'oh god, what if it's _someone else_?', because that was an unpleasant possibility he hadn't really stopped to consider until then, and that makes him panic slightly - but he can't. It's not like he has tits, obviously, but the corset's still pretty tight around his ribs, even when he's having to fasten it himself, and sitting up like this he can only really breathe shallowly. Which mostly just means that by the time Jersey comes through the door Alex is staring at him, wide-eyed and with a half-choked gasp caught at the back of his throat.

Alex knows he can't pretend anymore, can't act like he wasn't hoping that Jersey would do exactly this. And now that it's happening - he swallows, knowing there are only two ways he can look to Jersey right now, and he's hoping like hell that the answer isn't 'like a freak'. Jersey followed him. Jersey knew, had to know, and followed him anyway.

Jersey is still just sort of staring at him, and Alex is so tense he feels like he's maybe going to throw up. He didn't want to make the first real move, that feels terrifyingly like an admission that this is happening, and that it's maybe more than they're comfortable with it being. And then Jersey's hand is on his shoulder, warm on the bare skin, and he says "Alex- oh, hell," and there's a hectic confused moment where they're both trying to figure out which way to move before Jersey's mouth is hot against his.

The kiss starts out aggressive and then gets harder, more desperate, and Alex wonders if it's the kink that's giving it that extra kick, if Jersey's turned on because of what he's wearing or just because he's a guy and there's kissing and touching. Jersey's got one hand twisted in Alex's hair, holding his face up at the right angle, and his free hand splayed out over Alex's back, thumb playing with the laces of the corset, and Alex thinks "okay, kink, fine," and he's good with that, he really really is. Because he's never actually done this with anyone he's been with before, never had a girlfriend or boyfriend know he might want anything more than vanilla sex and hot touches.

Jersey feels just as wound up and crazed for this as he does, and it sends a sick kind of thrill through him, to know they're both getting off on this. He doesn't know just how long it's been for Jersey, since he's been with anyone like this, and he's not sure whether he should be slightly queasy or turned on by that- okay, that ship has well and truly sailed, Alex just wants to get laid already, he's so hard it hurts. Jersey ducks his head to bite at Alex's shoulder and Alex moans, raw and loud, hooks his ankle around the back of Jersey's calf to hold him closer, and that knocks their hips tighter together, flush from knee to neck, and Alex wants so badly, wants Jersey to push him back onto the hotel bed and follow through on everything his hands and mouth are promising.

Instead, Jersey's hand drops from Alex's face and he starts yanking one-handed at the fly of Alex's jeans, wrist bumping into the bottom hem of the corset, and Alex thinks 'yes, _finally_,' and that's the point at which they hear the door handle rattle. Alex feels the arousal rush clear out of his system on a surge of panic; how could he forget they weren't actually all that private?

He has time for one horrified glance at Jersey - who looks wrecked; flushed and dishevelled - before Jersey shoves at his shoulder and hisses "go!", aiming him at the bathroom. Alex moves fast and gets the door locked behind himself just in time. And then stares down at himself, panting heavily, clearly hard in his pants, sweating. Shower. A shower is definitely the only way forward. He pulls off his clothes tiredly, ducks under the spray, and tries not to think.

...and by tries not to think, he means knocks his forehead against the side of the shower stall while cursing loudly inside his head. They were so close, he was so definitely going to get laid, and now there is no way that's going to be happening any time soon. His dick is actually throbbing; he'd been turned on for a while before Jersey had gotten there, and that had been a lot of friction with no payoff. He groans very quietly before raiding the tiny bottle of hotel issue shower gel and jerking off, working his hand hard and fast; maybe he'll feel better if he can get off. If he's not worried about what Duncan is saying to Jersey or how Jersey looked when he'd closed the door, and thinking about how Jersey had looked - and more importantly, how he'd felt, fuck, hot and desperate pressed up against Alex, hands clumsy with desire, and - yeah, that does it, Alex comes over his hands, back unknotting just a fraction, and has to stand under the running water for another minute or two just panting, hoping he can pull himself together enough to not screw this up.

It's maybe more difficult than he'd like. He hasn't gotten laid in weeks, and Jersey is really hot, he'd thought that even before this mess had begun. And Alex likes blow jobs, and events certainly seemed to be progressing in that direction, and now he's going to have to pretend that he doesn't want to pounce on the closest warm body (Jersey) and rub off until the itch comes out from under his skin.

* * *

Alex comes out of the bathroom in just his boxers. The corset is wrapped and hidden in his jeans, and he stuffs them into his bag before pulling out a t-shirt and shrugging it on. Duncan makes a good-natured remark about what Alex was doing in the bathroom for so long, complete with hand gesture, and Alex forces himself to laugh like he would normally. Jersey laughs too, and Alex doesn't know if he's kidding himself or if Jersey does sound a little strained. Okay, it's probably real. Alex doesn't know how much of it was because of _him_, but Jersey had definitely been really pretty hard, and it's not like he's been able to do anything about that.

Duncan makes one more smart-ass comment and then vanishes into the bathroom himself. Alex exchanges an awkward look with Jersey - he wants to say something, god knows what, but something, but they're both acutely aware of the thin walls.

Jersey makes a face and then strips off his t-shirt and crawls under the covers. Alex tries not to stare like a creeper - he's seen Jersey more naked than that, it's just- never been weird before. Fuck.

"Night," Jersey says softly, and Alex has to swallow hard before saying "yeah, good night," and getting into the bed himself. He's newly appreciating just how much getting himself off in the shower hadn't actually helped, cos now it's like he can feel Jersey lying there not sleeping - not that that's not normal - and avoiding him. Alex screws his eyes closed tighter and does his best to feign sleep.

The room is dark and quiet after Duncan crawls into the other bed and hits the lights, taking a moment to call them lazy while he does so. Jersey says something about that's what they pay him for from under the pillow, and then shifts again, clearly trying to get comfortable. Alex can totally sympathize on that front.

He's doing his best to keep his breathing even - not easy when he can feel the warmth of Jersey's body along his back - when he hears, feels Jersey get up and pad into the bathroom. It takes a long time, and Alex thinks he can hear harsh breathing through the wall. There's no chance of getting a good sleep anyway, so Alex turns to face the center of the bed, keeping his eyes closed and hips tilted away.

Alex can see the brief wash of light into the main room through his eyelids before Jersey shuts it off again and closes the bathroom door softly. He must stop by the bed or something, because it's a good minute more before the mattress dips as Jersey climbs back under the covers. Maybe he hesitates for a second, but he does lie carefully beside Alex, and their hips bump for just a second before Jersey sighs audibly and turns his face into the pillow. Alex steals a glance through slitted-open eyes and just gets the back of his head, hair dark and messy against the pillow. Alex stretches, lies to himself about why, and definitely does not hold his breath as his ankle knocks the back of Jersey's shin. Jersey just rolls back fractionally towards him, and Alex exhales, relaxes, and lets himself drop into actual sleep.

* * *

The next night is a break day, and they're all hanging out when Duncan tells them - really not all that subtly - that he's hooking up and they can have the room to themselves. They yell helpful suggestions ("you should take it slow, the first time," Jersey says, straight-faced, and Alex snickers into his soda) and Duncan flips them off before vanishing off into the night. Mike and Elliot try to trade rooms with them - apparently the guy they're sharing with snores and they want a break, especially since Mike has been sick and all, but Alex just tells them it's the luck of the draw and they need to suck it up. This opinion is not the most popular, or at least it isn't with the two of them. Jersey doesn't say anything about it, just sips his beer and keeps plotting something with Cassadee. Alex catches his gaze for half a second, though, and it's just long enough for him to hope that, yeah, Jersey is probably up for something.

Alex slips away early - he's probably getting a reputation for not being fun or whatever, slipping off like a lamer for the second night in a row - and he's just pulling the corset on, struggling with the laces when the door opens, and thank god Jersey's followed him, this is an actual thing.

"You, um, did you want a hand?" Jersey says, looking as awkward as Alex feels, but he's moving forward before Alex can even answer, crowding him back against the bed while he moves in for a kiss, hands spanning Alex's waist.

They wind up actually on the bed this time, and the corset is too loose to sit properly, which Alex would really like to stop caring about. But it's slightly distracting; sliding down his chest and digging in to the side of his stomach, the hem curling and the boning starting to slip inevitably sideways, which also means it's sort of stabbing him in the ribs.

With difficulty, he sits up, hand moving off Jersey's ass with embarrassing reluctance, and yanks the corset back up.

"Sorry, it's just - I don't want to break it or- um, maybe I should take it off now-" he says, feeling unaccountably awkward, and it doesn't help one little bit when Jersey is just all "sorry, sorry, fuck, um-" and generally non-verbal in response.

Alex should have dressed faster, dammit.

"I seriously am capable of tying a bow, dude," Jersey says, after a moment, sitting back and resting his hands on his thighs. "Just turn around already and let me fix that, if you want."

He's not really meeting Alex's eyes, and, okay, maybe it makes him lame or easy or something unflattering, but this isn't exactly the scenario Alex was hoping to roll over for Jersey in. But maybe they'll actually get somewhere past making out this way, even if it is just more above-the-waist groping.

Alex kneels up, shuffles around so that his back is to Jersey and lets his head drop, stretching out his neck.

Jersey's hands are gentle but competent, sliding the corset higher over his ribs and then pulling at the laces. Alex doesn't have the heart to tell him he can make it tighter; the angle is horrible when he's doing it himself, but even Alex can get the laces done up better than that, and someone else should have a lot more leverage. As it is, Jersey ties what feels like a functional knot, his hands lingering over Alex's shoulder blades, and the light touch feels good enough that he just makes a contented little noise and leans back.

He startles a little when that's followed by a not-actually-that-light bite over the muscle where his shoulder meets his neck, Jersey's breath hot and damp against his skin while he sucks a light hickey onto the skin. The moan that evokes is a little bit louder and a lot less subtle.

Jersey laughs and gets his hands on Alex's sides, pulling him back against his body while his hand splays over Alex's stomach, feeling where the corset is flattened out over his belly. His palm rubs in circles, and it's the least sexual touch ever, and Alex is going to go insane. More insane, actually, because he can kind of feel Jersey leaning into him, and it doesn't exactly take much squirming to be sure that he's hard, too, and- they have the room to themselves, guaranteed, it seems practically criminal to not be having sex.

Probably Alex should point that out. Like. In case Jersey hasn't realized, or something.

When Alex does actually pull away and turn back to face him, Jersey is totally making a disappointed face, and in any other circumstances Alex would mock him soundly for it, or, you know, post a picture to the internet, but more kissing seems about a thousand times less embarrassing than asking why they're still just making out like high-schoolers, and that goes on for quite some time.

Alex winds up underneath Jersey again, sliding down the bed, because shitty hotel sheets and satin are apparently just about frictionless, but he's shifting around just enough, Jersey's thigh snugged between his, and okay, if he winds up rubbing off on Jersey's leg in his jeans, well, that is a choice he's just going to have to live with. It's not like they don't have laundry day planned, uh, at some point this week anyway.

Jersey licks at his jaw - which is actually not as hot as Alex thinks it should be - and then goes back in for another kiss. Alex is totally down with that plan, and he's getting frustratingly close to coming, which also is making him wonder if he's closer to high school than he'd like to think, still. Then again, he's not really getting any closer than that and the tension humming just under his skin is definitely not all the sexy kind.

It doesn't help that the rest of their tour mates are kind of the loudest people ever, especially when they're drunk, and Alex knows that he's tensing up every time he hears a noise outside the door, every time someone walks past. He knows the door's locked, and unless Duncan's striking out spectacularly (which seems unlikely, or at least like it'd have happened by now if it was going to), then no one else can get in, but it's still hard to be totally comfortable.

It'd be one thing to get caught hooking up with a dude, even if half the label have done worse, and his band are pretty well aware that he likes guys anyway, so it's not like many people would really care, but dressed like this... Alex really doesn't want to think about it. It's obvious Jersey notices, because it doesn't take much longer for him to prop himself up on his hands, bite his lip - which just makes the studs stand out more, thanks a lot, and say, "we should probably. Y'know. Sleep?"

"Like you ever sleep," Alex grumps, and lies back against the pillow, giving Jersey his best glare. Jersey misses it completely, twisting back to grab the bedspread from the end of the bed where one or both of them had kicked it, and hauling it up over them.

Alex slumps back into the mattress, too discouraged to even bother getting up to jerk off in the bathroom again -- maybe he should do that, actually. With the door open. So Jersey knows _exactly what he's missing out on_. Except that feels like a lot of effort, and they've been touring for weeks now, they had bus call (well, van call, but everyone still calls it bus call) at six that morning, and he is actually kind of tired. Edging close to exhausted. And Jersey's still in the bed with him, at least, not making the slightest effort to pretend that he's sleeping anywhere else, snuggled up against Alex's side with his nose pressing kind of cold against his biceps, and okay, it could be worse. Alex hopes tiredly that one of them did actually remember to set an alarm on their phone before letting his eyes close.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, it's to the cheerfully tinny cheep of his iPhone alarm, and a sudden appreciation of just what exactly he had been forgetting the night before. Such as to take the freaking corset off. He probably wouldn't have fallen asleep if it hadn't been so loose to start with, but loose isn't the same thing as nonbinding, and when he shoves the covers back and looks down at himself, he can see immediately that there's a red line across his belly from where the hem had slipped and been rubbing in his sleep. And there's probably a matching line on his back, too.

"Ugh, time is it?" Jersey mutters sleepily from beside him, and then cracks open one eye to look at him when Alex doesn't answer.

Jersey sits up fast, blinking as he reaches over to grab his glasses from the night stand and just stares at Alex. Who is afraid that he's blushing; it's way too early in the morning to be under that kind of scrutiny, even if it is from the dude you're semi-regularly swapping spit with.

"Oh crap," Jersey breathes, and Alex hunches up a little; great, he looks even worse than he'd thought.

"I'm so sorry," Jersey goes on, hooking his index finger over the top of the corset and pulling Alex closer. He's clumsy enough doing it that he manages to knock the top couple of hooks and eyes out of alignment, goes on to say, "oh, probably you should-" and uses both hands to tug the two halves closer together so he can unhook the rest, working methodically from top to bottom. Alex bites his lip, because that brief constriction feels good, and combined with morning wood he's caring a lot less all of a sudden about how his skin probably looks terrible. He doesn't even want to think about his hair, although Jersey's is sort of hilarious in its own right.

"Thanks," he says, as Jersey unwraps the corset from his body and sets it carefully on the bedspread, and that turns into a much more appreciative mumble as Jersey leans in to kiss him firmly, one hand on his jaw and the other on his bare back. It feels really nice, and Alex wishes they had more time to linger over this, rather than being painfully aware of how they need to shower and dress and do all of that before Duncan gets back and finds them like this.

Jersey's obviously tuned in to much the same thoughts, because he lets go after far too short a time, reaching over to the table to check his phone and then rolls out of bed and pads over to his suitcase to find some cleaner clothes. Alex watches him for just a second before doing the same thing himself, and he's bending over trying to figure out if the pair of socks he'd stuffed into the front pocket of his bag are still there or if he wore them yesterday when he hears Jersey drop something.

He turns around just to check, and, okay, make fun, but Jersey is staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Alex tries not to, but he goes straight to self-conscious paranoia. "What?"

"Your back," Jersey says, which is kind of nonsensical, and so Alex says "huh?"

"You're- there's, um. Marks. All along your back. From the, you know, from the laces. Fuck, I should've woken you up to get changed, I'm really sorry," and of course Jersey was awake after he'd fallen asleep last night, and Alex thinks he should possibly be a little more worried by the fact that Jersey's as good as admitted to watching him sleep, but that is also just how they roll; he's lost count of how many creeper photos he has of people sleeping, in the van and in backstage corners or generic hotel rooms.

"I'm sure it's fine," Alex says cautiously, stretching a bit more deliberately now. He doesn't feel sore or anything, just... still pretty frustrated. "Like, it doesn't hurt. Can I see, though?"

He's curious, actually, generally makes an effort not to leave any tell-tale marks, and he's going to have to find a thick t-shirt just in case.

"I don't think even you're bendy enough to see that in the bathroom mirror," Jersey says, "that thing is tiny."

Alex shrugs. "So take a photo." He pauses. "And fucking delete it after you show me, if that winds up on twitter I'm kicking your ass."

It's the closest they've come to outright talking about this, this thing that's going on with them so far, and the weirdest thing of all is that it doesn't feel any weirder.

Jersey has Alex lean over directly under the standing lamp and takes a photo on his camera, his fingertips tracing featherlight along Alex's spine before he lets him straighten and look. It's... it actually looks pretty cool, a criss-crossing zig-zag of red lines from his waist and up just over halfway to his neck, and every time Alex moves he's conscious of Jersey staring more.

"Did you," he starts, hesitant, and then tells himself to just man up already. "You can totally touch if you want," and then adds, a little petulantly, "believe me, I'm not going to stop you."

"I feel like a jerk," Jersey says, but he's laying his palm over the dip in Alex's spine, darting up with gentle touches. "Like, it's really fucking hot but at the same time, your _back_."

"My back is fine," Alex says, fully aware he sounds a little drunk, but Jersey's hands are drifting further and further afield now, and he's also pretty sure that he- yeah, that is definitely Jersey's tongue flicking over the knobs of vertebrae, tracing the pink welts on his skin, and his mouth just feels good.

Alex is just starting to think about throwing caution to the wind and shoving his pants down over his hips -- sleeping in his jeans was also not the greatest idea, but at least he's done that a bunch before by accident -- to see if Jersey will persist in being such a cocktease then, but his phone goes off again. It's the fifteen minute 'sleep' alarm, and some functioning part of his brain is pointing out that really, Duncan is going to be back any minute, especially since him having to drag them all out of bed is not exactly unprecedented.

"We need to get ready," Alex says, and stabs the alarm off with unnecessary force.

"I think you've got time for a shower," Jersey says, "just leave me enough time to do my hair, okay?"

"But it's so pretty right now," Alex teases, and Jersey swats at his arm and says "don't make me regret being nice to you," and frankly Alex thinks he could've been a lot _nicer_, but also that a shower sounds fucking awesome, so he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gift Jersey. Whatever.

* * *

Alex feels like a lamer, because he'd rather make out with Jersey given the opportunity than try to get actually laid. He's turned more than one person down now, and it's the only saving grace to Mike being sick and kind of out of it, because normally he would definitely have noticed Alex pulling away from the hot merch girl with the tramp stamp, or the lanky dude who worked security in Atlanta.

It's not Alex's fault. Jersey is awesome and hot and maybe it's the piercings, but making out with him is hotter than most of the actual sex Alex has had. And it's not like he could hook up with someone without Jersey knowing, and fuck, when did he turn into a crazy person about this? He's pretty sure he used to have other things to think about. But Jersey hasn't been hooking up either. Alex gets it; it may only be the convenience of someone willing (God knows Alex is willing; turns out Alex is fucking _easy_ for Jersey) with a compatible kink, but he'd be stupid to turn that down, right?

Alex doesn't want to risk doing anything that would make Jersey turn that down.

That doesn't stop him, though, from pushing the limits every now and then; he's lost count of how many times he's got his hand onto Jersey's ass and not got any further. They don't get a lot of opportunities to be alone, but they've gotten frighteningly well-practiced at taking advantage when they do. Alex is sort of touring in a permanent state of sugar-high, sleep-deprived, consistent sexual frustration.

He does count it as a total victory the time when he gets Jersey's loose shirt rucked up under his arms and then off entirely, manages to run his palms over Jersey's stomach and up over his nipples. Just like the last couple of times he's gotten this far, Alex has to straighten up after not that long, because the thing that he hadn't quite internalized back when all he did was sit around wearing the corset (and maybe jerk off if he was feeling particularly daring) is that the binding makes it really, really hard to move in some ways when two person activities are going on. It doesn't really help when he rolls onto his back and arches up, trying to get a deeper breath in, letting his hips drop, and Jersey just watches with hot eyes, or maybe lays his hand over Alex's ribs to feel his chest lift.

He shifts around to get comfortable again, determined to be the one who's actually running this for a change, shoves Jersey so that he's the one on his back this time and suckers him in with some more mostly-innocent kissing. He winds up lying between Jersey's legs, and he can tell it does good things for both of them as he wriggles down, getting his mouth on Jersey's collar to suck a hickey onto the skin, and then sliding a little lower to bite at his nipple; Jersey seems to like it when Alex uses his teeth. And this is no exception, because Jersey arches up under Alex and curses hoarsely.

Alex ducks his head again to drag his teeth over Jersey's sternum, detours up to suck at his right nipple since he'd gotten such a good reaction the last time, and Jersey doesn't disappoint this time, either.

"Fuck, Alex," Jersey gasps, and twists his fingers into Alex's hair encouragingly, hips restless under Alex's chest and his legs shifting as well.

Alex gets up on his elbows - which actually only pushes his weight harder against Jersey's groin, and knowing how hard he is sure isn't making Alex's life any easier.

"Can I _please_ jerk you off already?" Alex growls, more overtly aggressive about that than he's let himself be for a long time, frustrated as hell, and it's actually something of a shock when Jersey says "okay, yes, please."

Alex kneels up and pulls Jersey's pants and briefs down as quick as he can, not bothering to try to be smooth or anything but eager. It's not like it's a surprise that Jersey's hard, and Alex wants to duck down and lick the slit, but he's already pushed enough this time. He licks his hand instead, sloppy-wet, and gets right to business with hard, tight strokes.

He's trying to watch Jersey's face and dick at the same time, because both are pretty much ridiculously hot. He can't switch his attention between them very well while also concentrating on keeping a rhythm with his hand, though, and he has to settle on watching Jersey's face. Jersey's eyes are screwed tight -- he's still wearing his glasses, actually, and Alex is worried something will happen to them with the way Jersey is rolling his head against the pillow. He's biting his lower lip, his studs standing out obviously against reddened lips. Alex licks his own lips and speeds up his hand on Jersey's cock, uses his other hand to pull Jersey's glasses off and toss them to the other side of the bed. He flicks his thumb against one of Jersey's labrets, tracing the curve of his lip between the piercings, and that was apparently a pretty good plan, because Jersey arches his hips unexpectedly and comes with a quick intake of breath.

Jersey sits up after a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly while he tries to catch his breath. Alex is sort of distracted -- should he wipe his hand on the sheet? That's sort of the opposite of classy, but it's not like it's pristine anymore anyway -- there's faint streaks of come all over the bed sheets, over Jersey's belly, and, okay, probably on Alex's jeans, too. He doesn't really want to look too hard right now. Or maybe he should go to the bathroom; a towel wouldn't go astray generally, but before he can try to get up Jersey is sitting up and grabbing his face with both hands, pressing an enthusiastic kiss against his mouth.

"That was so, Alex, fuck, thank you," he says, and then goes back to kissing, which Alex is totally in favor of. Although he is also starting to think he's never going to get off himself. He can roll with that for a bit longer at least, though.

Jersey is apparently one of those guys who gets all energetic and handsy after he comes. Alex can certainly respect the way that works nicely for him, even if he doesn't understand it. And what that seems to mean is that what starts out as sloppy making out very quickly turns into something that's more biting than kissing, that leaves Alex's lips buzzing against his teeth.

He's just about sitting in Jersey's lap by this point, and it's kind of weird, to glance down and see Jersey's dick just _there_, his pants still caught around his thighs and hanging open. Alex vows to be a lot smoother and also to insist on actual complete nudity next time. He winds up leaning further and further back towards the foot of the bed, until at last he hits an angle where he just has no balance left, has to grab at Jersey's bare back to stop himself falling back, and Jersey startles, squeaks a little, because Alex's hand is, well, kind of wet still. And god help him, but Alex finds the flailing kind of adorable.

"Oops," he says, and then cracks up, because, well. _Come_. So maybe he's still twelve years old in some ways, but it's funny, and it's good, because Jersey is laughing too, wriggling and breathy, squirming out from underneath Alex's body. He directs him with light touches and low-voiced suggestion, until he's oriented the right way around on the bed. Jersey spreads his palm flat on Alex's chest and presses him back into the mattress, nuzzles at his neck. He's so very nearly just lying on top of him now, which... has potential, actually. Alex should've remembered just how much he likes that; Jersey certainly seems to have.

"It's okay," Jersey says, and nudges at Alex's shoulder until they're both lying down flat, and Alex slides his arms around Jersey's back, hands low on his hips. It's actually a little easier like this, he doesn't have to strain at all, working against gravity and torsion and the boning of the corset. "Hey," he says, a moment later, voice a little diffident and weirdly unsure for once, "I wanted to, I need to ask, can you come wearing that thing?"

Alex freezes up, his breath catching raw in his throat. He stares at Jersey, mute, his fingers tightening on his skin in lieu of an answer.

Jersey looks oddly serious, his fingertips brushing gently along Alex's jaw, not breaking eye contact. He seems to read the 'oh fuck yes' in Alex's expression, because his other hand traces down Alex's breastbone, over the fastening at the seam, tracing from sternum to navel before anchoring at the button of his jeans. He ducks down for an open-mouthed kiss, his hand trapped between their bodies and it makes Alex squirm helplessly, and then as he sits up again Jersey adds, reckless and daring, "do you want to?"

Alex finds his voice again, can't let this moment fall away from him. "Yes, yes, please, Jersey-- god, yes. About fucking time."

Jersey grins at him and starts very slowly unbuttoning Alex's jeans. Alex is clearly sleeping with a sadist, jeez.

"I wanted to check," Jersey goes on, "I mean, like, if you were worried about getting anything- and you said it wasn't a sex thing," wasn't _just_ a sex thing, Alex corrects in the privacy of his own mind, but tilts his hips up to remind Jersey that there's a zipper there and he should keep working on it. Jersey adds ruefully, "mostly I thought it was a good idea to. Like. Check. Since this isn't exactly the kind of thing I'm comfortable looking up on fucking google."

Alex laughs again, because, okay, point, and then runs his hands over Jersey's back, pressing in harder than he would've dared to before.

"It's okay," he says, and then clarifies right away, "it's good, I want to, I want _you_ to," and he's not actually sure what he wants Jersey to do, because the short answer is everything. Alex is not exactly the choosiest dude ever when he's a heartbeat away from coming, and it's a tendency which could get him into trouble, he's sure. Although it's probably not the rarest character fault in the world either, he figures, and then hisses appreciatively as Jersey yanks his pants off -- all the way off, thank fuck -- and without ceremony wriggles down to start sucking Alex's dick.

This was the best idea _ever_.

* * *

The best idea ever palls a little the next morning.

Maybe it's the end of tour stress buildup or something -- Alex loves his band but at the same time, he's so ready to have like a week where he doesn't have to look at their faces twenty-four seven, and also he misses his actual bed -- but everything is kind of itchy and just subtly wrong, and even having the room to themselves doesn't make it easier for him and Jersey to not stand all over each other's metaphorical toes.

They don't actually fight, outright, but they both oversleep, wake up ten steps behind and without even a minute to try and catch their breath, or to talk about anything or even (Alex has to admit he'd been hoping) go for seconds. Alex really likes morning sex. Well, aside from the danger of inadvertent napping afterwards. But it puts him in a good mood for the rest of the day, and this is sure a day where they could've used the extra high. Well, providing that the whole fancy underthings part wasn't actually a requirement, anyway, and that thought gives Alex's stomach an uneasy little lurch all of its own. That makes him shorter with Jersey than he should be, and they brush their teeth in silence, Jersey's fingers tapping out a restless beat on the porcelain sink while he waits for Alex to finish. Neither of them bothers to disarrange the covers on the second bed this time.

Alex knows he can get more than a little bitchy in this mood, and once they get in the van he curls up against the window with his eyes closed and his earbuds blaring; at this point he'd really rather be an antisocial dick than actually snap at anyone, especially Jersey.

Jersey had spent most of the previous day at the clinic with Mike, because, well, he's the least annoying person to be around while you're feeling like crap, and also that left Cassadee, Alex and Elliot to figure out what they could do to cover for him if he had to miss a show. So while Mike being officially out for the last two shows is unavoidably shitty, it could certainly have been a lot worse. And, okay, the fact they're going to get rooms to themselves for the last two nights of the tour is a scrap of silver lining, but it still feels kind of awkward.

Then again, Alex has never actually slept with someone he's in a band with before, so maybe it's that. He's pretty sure you can actually come back from making out with someone - even kind of a lot - to be friends afterwards. He's not so sure that the same thing extends to people who've seen you come.

It's also possible that he's realized he might be in over his head here, even more so than he'd thought before. Because for someone who's just hooking up, he spends kind of a lot of time thinking about Jersey. Or looking at him -- not in a creeper kind of way, just, he really is an attractive dude and Alex just appreciates that.

...probably it's a good thing that they've got some time apart. Maybe Alex can figure out what the hell he's doing here.

* * *

The Hot Topic tour is just weird, plain and simple. For one thing, there's almost as much press as there was when they'd been headlining, and so it takes about two days for Alex to forget all about the two whole weeks they've just had off, because it feels like a whole lot of 'next verse, same as the first'. This isn't worse, though. Or maybe it is.

He hadn't really spoken to Jersey over the break; hadn't expected to. Like, sure, they'd given each other shit over texts, and they'd coordinated some rehearsal stuff -- it was an acoustic tour, not a paid vacation -- but they hadn't really done more than that. They were still sharing rooms, because no one was going to put them in with Cassadee on purpose, which mostly just showed how dumb people could be.

The first night back they all partied a little too enthusiastically, over-exuberant to cover for the fact that Mike was still out, and Elliot was back home without them, and it was all kinds of weird in ways that seemed too lame to outright talk about. Beer therapy, which of course led to hangovers and energy drinks, and Alex downing enough caffeine to just about be vibrating on the spot.

"Hey, chill," Jersey says, and curls his palm around Alex's upper arm, and shit, it is so unfair, because his body is somehow wired already to take that as an invitation, to sit up and pay attention. His mouth goes kind of dry and he knows he's staring in the least stealthy way possible, because mostly all he wants to do now is drag Jersey back to their room and make out. It's been two and a half weeks, and he's definitely gone a lot longer without kissing anyone, sure, but not when the person he wanted to kiss was right there in front of him again.

Alex's time off had in theory been meant to be spent trying to get a handle on what he was going to do about this thing he was apparently developing for Jersey. Clearly he hasn't really put enough thought into it.

"I'm going to like, go drink a gallon of water," Alex says, and hopes that that'll work as a code.

"That sounds like a really good idea," Jersey says, following him back out of the bar area and into the elevator. He punches the floor for their room after turning his wrist over to check the number where he'd written it after Duncan had given them out earlier.

Jersey sits on the bed when they get into the room, and just doesn't say anything. Alex is still feeling ridiculously awkward about, well, life in general and does take the lame approach of actually drinking three glasses of water in quick succession rather than engaging in a staring competition, but avoidance is only going to work for so long; if nothing else there's only so much he can drink.

Especially since his dick is making a valiant attempt at this stage to remind him of just how neglected it's been; which is of course a lie, Alex is conflicted and pretty fucking confused, not a monk, and without much regret he shelves the whole talking-about-this plan, grabs for his bag, where he knows he has the corset wrapped in a couple t-shirts, and looks hopefully at Jersey, saying "hey, do you want me to-?"

Jersey just cocks his head and says, "do you want to?", which isn't at all the response Alex was expecting.

"I. What? I thought you were, you know, into that."

Jersey looks at him evenly, fingers twisting in the knee of his jeans, nails scratching over the fabric. "Yeah, I like it. I don't need it, though. Like... we can just hook up, if that's what you want."

Alex bites his lip, feeling the butterflies in his stomach start up with some serious acrobatics, and sits down beside him. "I thought, like. I kinda thought that was why."

Jersey shrugs, reaches over to squeeze Alex's thigh encouragingly, and says, "no, you're just a pretty face."

"You're such a jerk," Alex says. "You're lucky you're easy."

"That's the response you're running with?" Jersey asks, raising an eyebrow. "I dunno, dude, I don't know that you're gonna get laid any time soon with that kind of smart mouth."

Alex considers making a comment about Jersey liking his mouth, but lets it go as something that would actually be too tacky for words. "I don't know, really," he says, "I just. You're really okay screwing around without anything, um. Extra?"

Jersey leans in and kisses him, lingers just long enough that Alex not only believes him, but is also rapidly losing interest in talking about this any more.

"I'm really okay with that."

"It's just," Alex admits, "I never did that with anyone else before. The corset and all, I sort of thought most people would be put off. I guess it's not something you find out all that often, so. Um. How did you figure it out, then? That it's what you're into. I mean, I told you about me." Alex is genuinely curious; he really doesn't know how Jersey wound up in this.

Jersey gives him kind of a weird look and says, "...when I walked in on you."

"Oh." Alex is dumbfounded. That was not what he was expecting, at all. He'd thought- okay, there hadn't really been all that much thinking going on, he'd just assumed.

Jersey sighs. Alex is right there with him on that.

"I don't want to be that guy, but I guess we need to talk about this," Jersey says, "because I'd like to be the guy you're sleeping with and maybe dating if you're into that, and not just the guy who kind of wants to do those things and isn't sure if he should."

"That makes no sense," Alex says, but hey, at least it's not only him being ridiculous this time.

Jersey scrubs his hand through his hair, knocks his glasses askew and then sighs again. "Yeah, sorry. Look. I'm not imagining it, am I? You're into me, too, like, it's not just a tour thing?"

Alex grabs Jersey's hand, lacing their fingers together, which really is the very least he can do, especially since he couldn't actually start this conversation himself, and just says, "yeah." It's easier to admit than he'd imagined it would be.

"Yeah?" Jersey says, and Alex feels a tiny smile start around his mouth, leans in to bump his shoulder against Jersey's because, okay, they're not really talking about this right now, not deep and meaningful relationship shit or anything, but it seems like they maybe are on the same page here, at least.

"Yeah, I'd like to date you," Alex says, because they can, like, hold hands and go to the movies, too, he does that kind of thing with Jersey already anyway, and if that comes with kissing and getting off built in officially as well, then, hey. That's basically awesome. Although there definitely need to be some ground rules. Like: realizing that Alex is not a blushing virgin, jeez. "That means we get to have more sex, right?"

Jersey leans over and kisses him again, and Alex grabs for him embarrassingly fast.

"I'm pretty sure that's implied, yeah," Jersey says, "impatient much?"

"Seriously," Alex says, and starts unbuttoning Jersey's fly, because he can totally multitask, and also why wait. "What is _your_ problem?"

"I just," Jersey says, and then gets kind of distracted because Alex gets his hand on his dick, stroking lightly. "I didn't want to rush you. You're pretty young-"

"I've been legal for years," Alex says, rolling his eyes, "and also you've had sex with me once already anyway. Or twice if we're getting all technical about it."

"-and when I was your age I didn't really know what I was doing, especially with guys," he tries to keep talking, but trails off into a gasp because Alex squeezes his hand quite deliberately at that point.

"Jersey," Alex says, "I know what I'm doing, okay?" because he totally _does_, and Jersey makes another appreciative noise which Alex takes as agreement. He scoots back up the bed, pulling Jersey with him until they're sprawled out, pulling clothing out the way when they can't work around it any longer; reckless touches that slide headlong into messy handjobs, into Alex fingering Jersey, making him squirm and moan, and he's so intent that he doesn't even stop to wonder, this time, if anyone else will hear them.

Jersey kicks his pants off and leaves them on the floor by the bed, wriggling under the sheet to lie beside Alex, draping his arm low across Alex's waist.

"Do you think anyone will notice we ditched?" Alex says, too sleepy to really care much.

"Not until after we've done it a lot more," Jersey says, and Alex just grins, and says, "awesome."

* * *

"We did this backwards," Jersey says the next night, after they've locked the door to their room behind them and are lying on the bed, no pretenses this time about what they're doing.

He's got his fingers hooked under the seam of the corset, feeling where it presses into Alex's skin and where it... doesn't. He'd help lace Alex into it again this time, tighter than the last time. He'd spent more than a little time with his fingers twisted in the lacing at the back, pulling it even tighter for a second or three, which would've been enough on its own to make Alex gasp, except then Jersey had leaned in, his forehead pressing against Alex's shoulder blade, breathing fast and ragged himself before he let go again. His hand had settled on Alex's hip, tugged to get him to turn so they could face each other, drift into another kiss, and really, it isn't exactly the most stellar time for him to try and have a sensible conversation.

Alex is still pretty distracted from the heady rush of being touched like that, handled; it's buzzing along his nerves, and Jersey has to uncurl his fingers from the top of the corset, lean back and repeat himself. He's frowning a little, and it sounds like a non sequitur but also like something that Alex should get.

"Mmm?" he asks, trailing his fingers over Jersey's ribs, seeing how far he can get before it turns into tickling and Jersey shrieks like a little girl, which is entertaining in a whole other way.

"Like, I don't even know what you like," Jersey says, and then adds, "in bed," quite unnecessarily.

Alex just gives him a look.

"Other than the obvious," Jersey says, and Alex doesn't get how that's an eye-roll-y comment, because, well. Isn't it obvious?

"Or the shit you talk in front of other people," he adds. Alex opens his mouth to protest, but Jersey is still talking. "Seriously, no one believes you and Mike half the time," which is kind of mean, but also probably accurate.

Alex rolls onto his back, stares up at the ceiling, their shadows indistinct with the dim light of the hotel lamp. "I like everything I've tried," he says. "I don't mind getting fucked, I like sex with girls and guys, haven't tried that at the same time but I probably wouldn't say no. Um. Unless you didn't want me to. Uh, oral is awesome, I may have exaggerated how many girls I slept with in high school, but dude, you've been in a van with me for months, you know what I've done."

"You're so discreet," Jersey says and then yawns, his jaw cracking.

"Shut up," Alex says, "I just don't provide any false advertising, I'm an awesome boyfriend. What do _you_ like?"

"Mmm, blow jobs and getting fucked are top of the list," Jersey says, "but I'm definitely into trying new things too."

"I could blow you?" Alex says hopefully, because seriously. He likes giving head, and he's got to go down on Jersey precisely once before now. They'd been a bit more organized the day after the final show of the last tour -- or maybe just less hungover than everyone else -- and Alex had hauled Jersey into the shower with him, because it was going to be a while, after that. Shit, Alex wasn't even meant to be out on this tour originally, and they still hadn't been totally sure then just how long Mike was going to be out.

Alex had gotten Jersey off without any trouble, and it had been good -- really good -- but it had been in a shower, after a long and tiring tour, and he's sort of determined to prove he can do better, especially if actual beds are involved this time.

"Good idea," Jersey says with a lazy grin, and Alex rubs his thumb across Jersey's lower lip, careful of the studs, and then slides down his body, kicking the sheets off the end of the bed as he goes.

And he tries, he really does, but kneeling is kind of too much with the corset on, he just can't bend like he wants to, needs to.

"Let's try it this way," he says after a minute, and shifts onto his back, ankles dangling off the end of the bed and his head craned back to look up at Jersey. "Kneel over me," he says, and Jersey's eyes are kind of wide, all pupil as he scrambles to follow Alex's directions.

He settles carefully over Alex's chest, one hand on his dick as he pushes it into Alex's mouth, making sure that his weight is balanced well back, that he can't make Alex choke.

Alex sucks him, wet and kind of sloppy, hands on Jersey's thighs, index finger rubbing just behind his balls occasionally, because he likes the way it makes him jolt. He can feel the pressure of the corset every time he has to take an extra deep breath in, the restriction making him want to push back harder, hold Jersey tighter. Jersey's cock is hot in his mouth, the head bumping against the roof of his mouth in a way that isn't the slightest bit unpleasant, although there's a strain in his jaw that he's pretty sure he'll be feeling tomorrow. Good thing backing vocals don't depend on him.

Jersey is a gentleman, tries to pull away when he gets close, but he doesn't try all that hard, and Alex has enough leverage to hold him there, to swallow frantically and breathe noisily through his nose until he gets his own heart rate back under control, although he's also so hard himself by that point that he almost doesn't want to touch, wants to ride that almost-so-close-nearly anticipation right up to the breaking point.

He sits up to meet Jersey in another kiss; Jersey likes kissing after he's gotten off, Alex learned that fast and is probably never going to be able to forget it. Jersey's hands are shaking slightly as they settle on Alex's back and tug at the knot he'd left in the laces earlier. Alex takes a deep breath in as Jersey shifts away to set the corset aside, a little impressed with himself. He hadn't expected that to work quite so well.

"Hey," Jersey says, "you could, you could fuck me, if you like."

Alex is still licking his lips, breathing a little ragged, and just says, a little distracted, "yeah, you said."

Jersey gropes him meaningfully and says, "I meant _now_."

"Oh! Yeah, I'm on it," Alex says, flustered and way too conscious of precisely how turned on he is.

Jersey just lies back, laughing at him for real this time, and says, "would X marks the spot help?" and all Alex can say to that is "Jesus, shut up and help me find lube, okay?"

* * *


End file.
